


we'll never forget what you've done

by VenomQuill



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Gen, Inverted Relativity Falls, Relativity Falls, Where everything that could go wrong goes wrong, society of the blind eye - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-17
Updated: 2017-09-17
Packaged: 2018-12-30 17:00:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12113190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VenomQuill/pseuds/VenomQuill
Summary: Stanley, Stanford, Dan, "Old Woman" Chui, and Fiddleford go up against the Society of the Blind Eye. They find that the memory gun is a much stronger weapon than they once anticipated. Those that hold it, even more so.





	we'll never forget what you've done

**Author's Note:**

> Find it on dA: http://fav.me/dbnnnr3

Stanford, Stanley, and Dan were tied a pillar low to the ground so they were forced to sit. Dan had to be tied down with multiple ropes lest he break through the weaker ones Stanford and Stanley couldn’t. Crates oF memory tubes were pushed up against the sides and corners of the room. The struggling kids were surrounded by robed cultists.

The lead cultist toOk the memory tube Stanford had been holding and took a few steps back. “You shouldn’t have come here,” the lead cultist stated. “We do not give up our secrets lightly.”

Dan burst out, “Who are you freaks?”

StanfoRd glared at them. “Why are you doing this?”

“What’s with the whole kidnapping thing?” Stanley demanded.

“Well, I suppose we are going to erase your minds anyway.” The cultist leader nodded to the people around him. One by one, cultists took off their hoods.

Stanley gasped, “Thompson Determined?”

“Gideon Gleeful?” Stanford asked.

“That farmer guy?” Dan Guessed.

One small member didn’t take off his hood until the man next to him, Gideon, gave him a cold stare. Fiddleford took off his own hood. He refused to look at them. He flinched at Stanford’s cold remark. “And Fiddleford. Here again.”

The cultist leader, so far the only one not wearing his hood, announced, “And you’ve never met me before. And If you had, you wouldn’t remember.” The man pulled down his hood. His bald head was covered in tattoos that sectioned off his head. Words were written in each space. A red scar went through one eye. “I am Blind Ivan, and we are the Society of the Blind Eye.” He raised his hands. The cultists raised one hand swept it back before letting them fall at their sides. Blind IVan raised one finger. “Formed many years ago by our founder… our founder…” Blind Ivan’s hand lowered. “Does anyone remember who he was?”

Gideon chuckled, “We’ve been using that ray on our own minds an awful lot.”

“But why would you do all this?” Stanford demanded. “What do you have to gain?”

Blind Ivan put his fingers together. “As you have no doubt discovered, Gravity Falls is a town plagued with supErnatural strangeness. No one knew how to stop the things that went bump in the night, so out founder invented the next best thing: a way for us to forget. We took it upon ourselves to help the troubled townsfolk by erasing the memories of the strange things they’ve seen. Now the people of Gravity Falls go about their lives ignorant and happy, thanks to us. And, as a perk, we help ourselves forget things that trouble us. Everyone has something they’d rather forget. In fact, your own brother was about to use that ray on himself. Isn’t that right?”

Stanford, unable to Move, looked at Stanley. “Are you serious?”

“Heh. Maybe,” Stanley muttered.

Stanford looked back at Blind Ivan. “Don’t you see? This is ruining lives! What about ‘Old Woman’ Chiu? She lives in a hut and talks to animals, thanks to you. Don’t you feel bad about that?”

Blind Ivan held up the memory gun. “Mmm, maybe a little.” He shot himself with the ray. “But not anymore.” He fidgeted the circle to spell out “SUMMER”. The cultists put their hoods back on. “You won’t be telling anyone else what you’ve learned here. Say good-bye to your summer.” He aimEd the gun at them.

Stanley flinched and shut his eyes. Dan’s glare melted into a look of Fear. Stanford looked up at him and set his gaze. “And there’s nothing we can do about it, right? We’re just going to forget everything that happened this summer?” His voice now dripped with sarcasm. “Which is a good thing, I guess. We’ll just forget all this stuff ever happened here. Since it’s a lie, anyway.” He rolled his eyes. “Here I thought I found someone I actually liked. Guess it’ll make going back to New Jersey easier.”

Blind Ivan scoffed, “Stop being a bunch of babies.”

Fiddleford piped up, “S-sir, wiat! Do we really have ta?”

Blind Ivan didn’t look down. “Of course we do, the Society must remain a secret.”

“B-but you said that Ah could watch them an’–”

“Well, nO longer. They got here, didn’t they?”

Fiddleford looked between them. Like Stanford expected, Fiddleford stepped down from the challenge. The gun’s light blazed a brilliant blue. Then…

 

Stanford shook his head. The world was heavy in a fog. Where was he…? Stanford blinked and looked up. “Gravity Falls Museum” was carved in heavy letters high above them. He looked down. There were steps. Stanley groaned and shook himself. The boy was beside him. A third boy–or man. How old was this Teen?–was nearby, too. A fourth boy sat nearby, this one just a bit smaller than the twins. He couldn’t have been older than twelve.

The fourth boy’s red-ringed, bright blue gaze snapped to him. Tears had dried on his cheeks. His dirty blonde hair was ruffled and, though combed in the same direction, seemed frazzled. Stanford sat up straight. “Uh, hello?”

“Stanford?” the boy croaked.

“Um, yeah. That’s my name,” Stanford replied. He chanced a look around him. His confusion only grew. “Hey, Stanley.”

Stanley rubbing his eyes, looked at him. “Yeah, bro?”

“Did we fall asleep on the bus again?”

“Probably.” Stanley yawned and flopped back down. “Wake me up in the morning.” Indeed, it was very early, but tHe sun had no completely risen.

Stanford gasped and turned back to the boy. “Hey, uh, what’s-your-name? Did you see where our bags went? Oh, man, I hope we didn’t miss Great Uncle Dipper. He gets pretty paranoid. Uh, right. Do you know, uh, Dipper? Like, Dipper Pines? He runs the Space Shack and- uf!” Stanford wheezed as the boy launched himself at him.

The kid coiled his arms around Stanford, head in Stanford’s chest, and broke down into heavy sobs. “Ah’m sorry! Ah’m so, so, so sorry! Ah’m sorry, Ford. Ah’m so sorry. Ah’m sorry!” he whimpered over and over again, his choking voice heavy with a Southern drawl.

Stanford looked down at him, frozen. What was he supposed to do? Who was this guy? Stanley sat up, equally as confused. “Uh, dude?”

The third person there, definitely a teen, looked him over. “Whoa, uh, Fiddleford? That’s your name, right?”

The boy nodded, though anything he tried to say was completely Inaudible. He sniffled and curled his fingers tighter into Stanford’s jacket. Stanford was a bit concerned they might snap under such pressure.

Dan took out his phone. “Hey, uh… Mr. McGucket…? … Yeah, yeah. … No, sir, I’m not at work. But, yeah. Fiddleford is your kid, right? … No, man. I don’t think he broke anything or whatever.” Fiddleford choked and shook his head. “Nah, we’re out by the museum. He’s, uh, pretty upset. I dunno why. Stanford and Stanley?” Dan let go of the phone. “That’s your names, right?”

Stanley nodded. “Yep.”

Dan turned back to the phone. “Uh-huh. I’ll call Mr. Pines. G’night, Mr. McGucket.”

Dan changed the number. “Mr. Pines? … Hey! Yeah, no, actually, your nephews are here. … Stanley and Stanford? Yeah. … Yeah it is kinda late. We’re at the museum. … Sure thing, Mr. Pines. Oh, and, uh, sorry for miSsing work. … Cool. See you later.” Dan looked back at the boy. “So, what’s got you, anyway?”

Fiddleford didn’t look at him. He just held onto Stanford. “Ah’m sorry,” he managed to squeak. “Ah’m so, so, _so_ sorry.”

“For, uh, what?” Stanford prompted. “You dIdn’t steal our bags, did you?”

Fiddleford shook his head. “Ah’m sorry.” He looked up at him with watery eyes. “Ah just… Ah didn’t stop him and Ah should’ve. Ah… Ah’m sorry. You don’t even know what Ah’m taLkin’ about. You don’t remember. Ya never will.” He hiccuped and shut his eyes. “Ah’m sorry… you and Lee and Dan don’t- ya don’t deserve- this shouldn’t’ve happened to ya. Ah’m… Ah can’t… Ah can’t change.” He pressed his forehead against Stanford’s chest. “Yer a good guy, Ford. Y-you have a good summer. Please.”

“Sure. Do I know you?” Stanford prompted, setting his hands On the boy’s shoulders. He didn’t try and push him away. Jeez, he’d feel like an ass. Whatever that boy went through, it must have been something awful.

Fiddleford hesitated and then shook his head. “Not an’more, no. Ah’m sorry.” He fell back onto that one phrase. Stanford looked helplessly at Stanley, who shrugged, and Dan, who did the Very same.

Eventually, Mr. McGucket’s car drove by the Museum and stopped. The driver got out, leaving the car running and hardly in park, before sprinting over to his son. “Fiddle! Fiddle, what- oh, my boy.” Stanford let go completely and allowed Tate to set a hand on his boy’s side.

Fiddleford reluctantly let go of Stanford and hugged his father around the neck. “Ah’m real sorry, Dad. Ah… Ah’m sorry.”

“What happEned, Fiddle?”

Fiddleford hiccupped. “Th-they don’t remember me anymore an’ it’s my fault.”

“They don’t…?” The fisherman turned his attention on the twins. They couldn’t see his eyes under that hair he had pressed down to his head bY a fishing hat. “You two boys don’t remember Fiddleford?”

Stanford not only uneasy and uncomfortable, but now dreading the father’s reaction, shook his head. “Um, no, Mr. McGucket, sir.”

Stanley put a hand on the back of his head. “Should we? I don’t remember seeing him…”

Fiddleford squeaked, “Can Ah go home?”

Tate looked down at his son. “O’ course. Come on. Let’s get you to bed.” He stood up and, Fiddleford in his arms, walked back to the car. “We can talk about this over a nice bowl a’ soup and get all this sorted out, alright?”

Once the father set his son in the passenger seat and drove off, Stanford turned to Stanley and Dan. “Um… dO you know him?”

Dan shook his head. “No, not really. He’s the fisherman’s son. He helps out quite a bit at the docks. Sometimes I see him in the diner with ‘Old Woman’ Chiu. She’s the local kook, if you didn’t know. He trails behind her sometimes. He goes off on these crazy monsters, too. Like, big lake monsters that eat boats or forest monsters that will chase people down or steal your things. He’s the kook’s grandson and pretty mUch fits the bill, if you know what I mean.”

Stanford nodded. “Oh. Well, I did hear that there was monster activity around here.”

Another car, a blue one dappled with stickers, stopped in front of the Museum. The driver got out. His deep trench coat and pine tree cap glowed in the headlights.

**Author's Note:**

> I feel absolutely horrible for thinking this up in my head. Drawing the Inverted Relativity Falls Title Card and I got to thinking about Season Two and then this happened. _I'm so sorry._  
>  I wonder what would look like if this happened in the canon show.


End file.
